


Motherfucking Sex on a Motherfucking Plane

by Bluespartan114



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Dom!Sam, M/M, Motherfucking sex on a motherfucking plane, PWP, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluespartan114/pseuds/Bluespartan114
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's as tense as ever on a plane. Sam thinks he knows how to alleviate that tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motherfucking Sex on a Motherfucking Plane

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated!

Dean's fingers gripped the armrest so tight his knuckles were turning white. His breathing was coming in such short, shallow bursts that Sam was pretty sure he was close to hyperventilating. 

The younger Winchester held his hand out, palm up. When Dean didn't budge, he received a very soft elbow to the ribs. Startled, Dean looked around for a second before Sam motioned to his hand. Dean rolled his eyes and knitted his brow at the gesture but intertwined their fingers all the same. The death grip was transferred uncomfortably to Sam's appendage.

"Dean, are you sure you're all right?" he whispered in his brother's ear.

"Just peachy," Dean spat out between clenched teeth. "I feel like the king of the goddamn sky. How in the hell did I let you talk me into this?"

"Uh, well, given the fact that the Impala isn't outfitted with nautical capabilities, this was the second best option to get to London."

At the mention of his car, Dean's head rolled back against the headrest of his seat. "My poor baby. I--I swear to God, Sammy, if there's so much as a scratch on her when we get back--"

"You'll give me so many lashes not even the demons in Hell will recognize me. Yeah, I know." He suddenly leaned in closer so that his breath was just barely ghosting across his brother's ear. "Then again, I might enjoy the lashing part. Sounds...kinky." Sam made sure to use his most seductive tone.

Dean squirmed a little in his seat. "Dammit, not now."

"Why not?" Just the barest tip of Sam's tongue shot out and traced along Dean's earlobe. 

"Because we're thirty-thousand feet in the air in a flying metal death trap." The pressure increased on his brother's hand.

Sam glanced around. They were the only two in their set of seats. Across the way, one passenger was sleeping, one was balls-deep in a Nintendo DS and the third one's face was mostly covered by a Cosmopolitan magazine. No one was paying attention to them. "I've got a way to make you feel better," he murmured.

"Sammy..."

"I'm going to the bathroom. Follow me in a few minutes. Or finish the flight alone." As he got up, he let one hand drag suggestively up Dean's thigh. He was gone before he could hear any of the protests.

Dean thought he would be alright, but without his brother's comforting presence he started imagining a million more ways for him to die without a blaze of glory. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore. He got up and followed his brother to the bathroom. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Sam's fingers were entwined in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. It was fierce and heated, their tongues dueling for dominance. Dean fought hard, but he eventually surrendered to his brother's talented mouth with a satisfied groan.

"Oh, God, Sammy..." he breathed when teeth latched on to his neck, biting and licking and surely leaving a mark. His hands worked their way up Sam's shirt and raked nice long trails from shoulder blades to waist. Despite some of the fear still in the back of his mind, all the blood flowing right to his cock pushed the feeling far away. 

Sam's mouth was back on his as his belt buckle was fumbled with. His breath caught in his throat when Sam wrapped his fingers around his now-throbbing erection. 

"Like that, Dean?" Sam asked, stroking his brother's cock with slow, languid strokes. 

"Fuck--" he jerked his hips, wanting more contact. 

"That was the plan." Dean was spun around, pressed against the sink, Sam working his pants down his hips. He gripped the flimsy counter, holding his breath with anticipation. 

He heard Sam's fly being undone, clumsily and all-too slowly because dammit--those miraculous fingers were bringing him so close to the edge and they hadn't even gotten to the best part. 

Sam was still jerking him off when a spit-slicked finger was inserted, then a second. He hissed, the pressure uncomfortable at first, but Sam always knew what to do in order to ease the pain. 

His skin was on fire when those fingers were withdrawn. Dean whimpered--growled, really--containing the noise in the back of his throat. 

"I love it when you make that noise," Sam whispered, the head of his cock poised at Dean's entrance. Sam grabbed a rough handful of hair and yanked back as he thrust in. "Don't scream now."

It took everything inside of Dean not to. The feeling of Sam filling him, taking him so perfectly was enough for Dean to let go and spill right into his brother's fist. Sam continued to stroke in time with each thrust. 

"Feel so good Dean," Sam grunted. "You look so hot, bent over, letting me just fuck you like the good little whore you are."

"Sammy!" 

As Sam's hands moved to either side of Dean's hips, Dean started thrusting backwards in time with Sam, tightening around his cock, moving faster and faster until he felt Sam get harder inside him. 

"So fucking good, Dean. I'm gonna cum..." the younger Winchester's nails dug into Dean's sides as he thrust one final time and released, grinding his hips against Dean's ass until the final waves of his orgasm stopped.

Chest heaving, he pulled out and clapped a hand on Dean's back, a goofy, satisfied smirk on his face. "Feel better?"

Zipping his pants back up, Dean turned and glared at his brother. "Fuck you."

"When we land." Sam chuckled and walked out of the bathroom.


End file.
